


shut up and kiss me

by ImSoSupernova



Category: SKAM (Spain)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Study Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 09:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImSoSupernova/pseuds/ImSoSupernova
Summary: Joana and Cris have been at odds nearly the entire time they've been sitting next to each other in class. So that’s why it’s such a surprise when one day, near the end of the semester, Cris invites Joana over to her house to study. And why she’s even more surprised by herself when she accepts.





	shut up and kiss me

**Author's Note:**

> hi y'all! i wrote this fic for the 75 dates in the skam universe challenge, for the prompt "study date". when i started writing for the prompt, i was doing a lot of my usual general fluffy stuff, and i wasn't really feeling it for some reason. so i was like, let's get out of the box! let's challenge yourself! let's make an enemies to lovers sex fic based on this random scene from pretty little liars that you just spontaneously remembered like two days ago! and i was like, HELL YEAH!   
> I hope you enjoy! <3

Joana has sat next to Cris Soto the entire semester, with mixed results. 

She notices right away that Cris is smart, and interested in the books they read. And she has  _ quite _ a lot to say, although not in the usual context of the class. More in the way of making comments out of the corner of her mouth as the loud, boisterous, overconfident guys in their class talk on and on about nothing, just to hear their own voices. When Joana offers her own ideas to the class, she finds herself glancing out of the corner of her at Cris, trying to see how she reacts. Looking for a smile, a small nod, a thoughtful look, and feeling more than rewarded when she gets one. And Joana already loves literature, but she begins to look forward even more to that class, to seeing Cris next to her, with her long, blonde braids and big, beautiful eyes, and all the interesting things she has to say.

Until one day, the smiles and nods stop coming. And Cris doesn't mutter under her breath like she does with the other guys, but she begins to roll her eyes at Joana’s comments, scoff a little, check her watch or tap her fingernails on the table. So Joana gets the message loud and clear: Cris doesn’t want anything to do with her. It hurts, but it is what it is. She’s gotten used to disappointment.

And that’s why it’s such a surprise when one day, near the end of the semester, Cris invites Joana over to her house to study. And why she’s even more surprised by herself when she accepts.

“Okay,” Joana says, trying to keep her voice calm and her eyes clear. “Let’s try this again. Name one major theme of  _ La Celestina  _ by Fernando de Rojas, based on historical context.”

Cris rolls onto her back and closes her eyes. “Umm...hmm…” She yawns, one, two, three seconds. Then, she murmurs, “The...new...popes...allowed more sexual freedom for people?”

Joana sighs. “No?” Cris asks.

“No, Cris.” Joana shakes her head. She has no idea why Cris has invited her here. It appears ready she hasn’t studied, and has no interest in improving her knowledge, especially not with Joana. All Cris seems to want to do, honestly, is roll her eyes, scowl, and yawn as Joana talks. Still, she tries to keep an upbeat tone. “But you’re close. There weren't any new popes, plural, that were significant. But there  _ were _ new rulers. Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand had just come into power and united Spain. You know, the ones who sent Christopher Columbus out exploring?”

_ “Duh.”  _ Cris rolls her eyes. “I know basic history, Joana.”

Joana tries to keep her peppy attitude. “Well, this is sort of a history question.” Cris looks unamused. She raises one eyebrow. Joana continues on. “ _ Historically, _ that power shift represents the change from medieval Spain to Renaissance Spain. So the book incorporates ideas from both medieval writings and Renaissance writings to represent that change. You see what I mean?”

Cris rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Sure.”

Joana presses, “Can you think of an example of a recurring theme from the text that represents either medieval or Renaissance values?”

Cris lays her chin in her hand, and purses her lips. She looks like a pretty young braided female version of The Thinker. Then, she shrugs. “Nope.”

“Okayyy…” Joana looks down at her notes. She’s got lists of examples written out, all facts and ideas she could easily give to Cris. But honestly, she feels so tired. She keeps hoping that this invitation to study means the start of something new, but Cris hasn’t been nice to her a second she’s been in her house. And Joana’s been sticking around this whole time, putting up with it for hours, but she doesn’t really understand  _ why.  _ It’s not getting better. And she’s sick of it. “Why did you even invite me here?”

Cris blinks. “What?”

“You heard me.” Joana shrugs, palms up. “Why did you invite me? You  _ clearly _ haven’t been studying. You  _ obviously _ have no intention of letting me help you study. You’ve been treating me like  _ shit _ this entire time. So why? Why would you bother asking me around when you obviously  _ hate _ me?”

Cris opens her mouth, and then closes it again, gaping like a fish. “I--I--” 

Her eyes are wide and open, and it’s the first time Joana’s ever seen her looking at her without any anger or contempt in her eyes. But as soon as it's there it’s gone, and her eyes harden again. “You think I haven’t studied, Joana? You think I don’t want to learn? And then you ask me why I’m always so pissed? You’re so  _ fucking  _ condescending. You don’t know  _ shit  _ about me.”

Now it’s Joana’s turn to blink, to question everything she’s thought about their interactions this entire times. “Then why don’t you listen to me?” She finally bursts out, almost desperately. “I have good information, I--I can  _ help _ you! Isn’t that why you asked me here, then? So we can help each other?”

_ “Help!”  _ Cris’s laugh is nothing close to humorous. She shakes her head in disbelief. “You need to get off your  _ fucking  _ high horse, I  _ swear.  _ You really--” Her voice trails off a little. “You really think this is about studying, huh?”

Joana has completely lost track of what’s happening in this conversation. “What? Isn’t it?” She asks.

Cris shakes her head. “Fine,” she says, “fine! You want to study? You want to prove something to me?”

Joana realizes she’s _ fed up.  _ Fed up with this conversation, fed up with Cris talking in circles around her and never telling her a damn thing. “Sure,” she says bitterly, “why the hell not?”

Cris grins, and it’s a frightening grin. A grin without any happiness or laughter. A grin full of plans and scheming. “Forget your flashcards,” she says, “we’re going to try a new study game. We’ll quiz each other, and whenever someone gets something wrong, they have to take off a piece of clothing. And we don’t stop until one of us is full-on naked. What do you say, high horse?”

Joana feels her cheeks turn bright red at this prospect, at the thought of being naked in front of Cris, at the thought of _ seeing Cris naked. _ But Cris is staring at her, a steely dark gaze, a challenge, and she can’t back down now. “Fuck it,” she says. 

Cris, Joana realizes very quickly, is  _ good.  _ Perhaps it’s just better questions now, or perhaps she’s just paying more attention now that there’s stakes, but she’s nailing the questions and Joana can’t help but wonder, just a little, if Cris wasn’t faking her a bit before as she delves deeper and deeper into her notes, trying to find questions that will challenge her because she keeps getting them  _ right. _ But she’s got to mess up at some point, and Joana finally gets her on a question about how many scenes there are in  _ Luces de Bohemia.  _

Cris frowns in concentration. “Umm...thirteen, right?”

Joana feels a strange sense of satisfaction as she shakes her head. “Uh-uh. It’s fifteen.”

Cris nods. “Okay. Fifteen.”

There’s a moment of stillness as they look at each other and remember their challenge. Joana’s practically holding her breath, not wanting to say anything, but waiting. Then, the moment breaks as Cris nods. And without breaking eye contact with Joana at all, she slides both of her bra straps off her shoulders, reaches up behind her under her shirt, and carefully removes her bra, which she places in front of her like a trophy. And then she gives Joana a smile. “Shall we continue?”

Joana swallows, and tries not to stare at the white lace of the bra in front of her, at the changes in shape of the fabric of Cris’s shirt. “Alright,” she says, “alright.”

Cris flips up a card and reads the question.  _ “Luces de Bohemia  _ is a play in which specific genre of tragic literature?”

Joana knows the answer to this question. She  _ knows  _ it. She’s studied it countless times before. But in the moment Cris is looking at her so intently, a hint of a smile on her face, and Joana can still see Cris’s bra in the corner of her vision just  _ lying _ there on the floor,  _ taunting  _ her, almost, and Joana’s mind is blank. “I--I don’t know,” she stammers out.

Cris raises her eyebrows in genuine surprise. “It's an  _ esperpento,”  _ she says quietly. “A degenerated tragedy.”

_ “Esperpento,  _ of  _ course,”  _ Joana murmurs to herself. How could she have forgotten that?”

Then she lifts her head back up to meet Cris’s gaze, and realizes what she has to do. 

With Cris’s eyes directly on her, Joana feels incredibly naked, exposed, even as she only removes her t-shirt, leaving her long-sleeve on underneath. 

Cris’s eyes narrow a little as she says, “Okay, your turn. Ask me a question.”

Their back and forth continues. Joana rifles through papers on papers as her stack of notes decreases. The questions get harder, more specific, about hidden motifs and lines of dialogue and particular details of certain scenes,and Joana knows it’s long gone past being about studying. It’s about proving something to the other person. It almost feels like they’re in a poker match scene from a movie, the way she feels Cris watching her, trying to guess what she’s thinking, what her weakness will be. The same way she’s watching Cris. Because it has become a game to her, too. The way, she thinks, Cris wanted it to.

Finally, Joana asks her, “How many verses are there in  _ El Cantar de mio Cid?”  _ And can’t help smiling a little as Cris shakes her head and scowls.

“Fuck,” she says, “I don’t know. How the hell am I supposed to know that?”

Joana shrugs. “It’s in my notes.”

Cris sighs. “Fine. How many?”

Joana looks at the page again, and says, “3730.”

“Damn.” 

Joana laughs a little at this, and Cris laughs too. Then, she catches Joana’s eye, and the smile fades a little. She reaches out, and Joana watches in faint disbelief as she slowly, carefully takes off her t-shirt.

And suddenly now she’s wearing nothing, and suddenly her breasts are  _ right there,  _ just out in the open for anyone to see, but right now it’s just for  _ Joana  _ to see, and Cris is just sitting upright, looking her straight in the eye, smiling, daring her to flinch. And maybe, just maybe, Joana is beginning to sweat a little.

“Okay,” Cris says, seemingly unaware that she’s fully tits-out at this point, although it’s the only thing Joana can really be conscious of at the moment, “what versestyle is _El Cantar de mio Cid_ written in?”

It’s amazing that Joana can think of anything at all. But somehow, through the fog of her brain and her steady inner monologue of  _ keep your eyes on her face keep your eyes on her face keep your eyes on her face--no, idiot, her face, her FACE  _ she manages to say, “Anisosyllabic with assonant rhyme.”

The smile slides from Cris’s face.

Her breasts are still very,  _ very  _ visible, though.

Joana gets that question, but it doesn’t take long for her to get tripped up. It’s all too much for her, this weird interrogation, this strange game of chicken they seem to be playing. The sight of her, topless, right there in front of her. And then Cris asks her some ridiculously obscure question, like “How many lines are there in the third scene of  _ Luces de Bohemia _ ?” And Joana has to throw her hands up in the air, and say, “I don’t know.”

Cris sits there, and raises an eyebrow. “Well?” 

“Alright,” Joana says quietly. 

Her skin prickles as she reaches down and pulls her shirt over her head, with something like nerves, but also... _ excitement,  _ in a way? She has no idea what she’s doing, or why. But there she is, across from Cris, almost equal to her in state of undress, and now Cris is looking at her in a way she’s never looked at Joana before, not in anger, or curiosity, or contemplation. Something... _ different,  _ but equally as intense.

_ “Finally,”  _ she says, and suddenly she leans across their piles of notecards and papers and pulls Joana close to her. And she kisses her, hard.

Joana jumps back in surprise at first, because if Cris had reached out and electrocuted her she’d be less shocked. But then she looks at Cris again, at the heat in her eyes and the way her blonde hair falls, wisps escaping from her braids and fluttering over her face all wild and loose--and Joana pulls Cris back to her.

It’s as fierce as their question and answer back and forth, but in a different way. It’s as if Cris wants nothing more than to have Joana as close to her as possible, and Joana feels her body comply in response, crawling her way over their notes and scattering the papers aside, seeing them white and flying in her peripheral vision as she works to press her body against Cris’s, tangling her fingers in her hair and undoing those tight blonde braids as she feels Cris’s fingers run up and down her back, carefully unhooking her bra. Joana pulls away, just for a moment, as she reaches her arms out and helps Cris slip her the straps off her shoulders. As soon as she’s done, Joana pulls her back, enjoying the new feeling of skin on skin as their chests press together. Cris slips her thigh between Joana’s legs and pulls her up higher, and Joana feels herself gasp at the new pressure. She feels Cris’s lips twist into a smile at that, and thinks, well, two can play at this game.

Moving closer, so that she’s practically sitting in Cris’s lap, she trails her fingers down Cris’s spine, letting them go lighter and faster as she gets closer to the base until she reaches the waistline of her pants and gently slips them under. Cris makes a slight choking sound, and Joana allows herself a small smirk as she keeps her hand exploring, pushing their bodies ever closer together, while she keeps her other hand tangled in Cris’s hair, pressed against the small of her back.

Their kisses get sloppier, less centered as Cris begins to grind her hips more forcefully against Joana’s, on the corners of each other’s mouths, cheeks, chins, noses. Until Joana begins to move her mouth lower, pressing kisses along Cris’s neck, collarbone, and down to caress against her breasts, where Cris arches her back to meet her, panting heavily against the contact. Joana can feel her heart racing against her mouth, and for a moment, just a moment, it feels as though she’s got Cris in her grasp. Until Cris backs up suddenly, and says, “Enough.” And then before Joana even recognizes the push, she’s falling backwards.

She can feel the sharp edges of the notecards pressing against her back as Cris gently parts her knees and slides in on top of her, kissing her as fiercely as before. Her lips begin to trail down Joana’s neck, stopping to add extra kisses in the places where Joana’s breath gets particularly heady, and Joana closes her eyes and arches her neck against her touch, knowing all the noises she’s making and no longer willing to care as long as it makes Cris  _ keep going-- _ along her breasts, feeling the brush of air and the light graze of teeth against her nipples that makes her moan aloud, and down the curve of her stomach until she stops at the edge of Joana’s pants. In that momentous pause, Joana feels her whole being tingle with anticipation as Cris reaches up and begins to undo the buttons and zipper of her jeans, and she bridges her hips to help Cris roll them down to her ankles. And then all that’s left is her underwear, which Cris pulls down with ease,  _ and then suddenly Cris’s tongue is inside her, and Joana can’t think anymore, can’t even pinch herself to make sure she’s not dreaming. _

Joana knows that she’s totally at the mercy of Cris now, her whole body laid out bare before her, moving against the circles that Cris makes inside of her, every little pressure and release making her gasp. Cris knows exactly what she’s doing too, teasing her and leading her on, bringing her to the edge, the  _ very _ edge, and then taking her back again, over and over again, until Joana is a moaning, shaking, writhing mess. Until she has to  _ beg _ Cris to finish her, and when she finally does, Joana can practically  _ feel  _ Cris’s little smile as she watches Joana cry out against her touch, practically sobbing in relief. Because it’s good, it’s  _ so  _ good, and it's everything she could have hoped for. And it’s all because of Cristina Soto.

Cris sits up after Joana’s done, and wipes her mouth off. Joana props herself up on her elbows, still naked from the knees up, and says the words that Cris wants to hear, because it’s the truth, and they both know it.

“Okay. You win.”

Cris gives her one fleeting look of triumph, and then glances over herself, and Joana’s bodies, at their tangled, sweaty hair, at the red marks along their necks and chests that will soon probably form bruises, and then at the room around them, at the crumpled, torn messes of paper. Joana meets her eyes, over it all. And then the two of them burst out laughing, together.

“So,” Cris says later, after they’ve made their way back into their clothes and tried, in vain, to sort out their notes, “now you know, I guess.”

Joana looks at her. “Know what?”

Cris lowers her eyes and blushes a little. “Know that...I like you.”

Joana blinks. “You do?” The question is genuine.

Cris stares at her in disbelief. “Joana, I just went down on you, and you still don’t believe I like you?”

It’s Joana’s turn to blush. “Well--I mean, you haven’t really been nice to me...I mean, before that.”

Cris nods a little, and chews her lip. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

“I know,” Joana murmurs, “but why act like that beforehand, if you liked me? So rude and standoffish? I mean--I think it’s pretty clear that I like you, too.”

“But that’s the thing,” Cris says. “It  _ wasn’t _ clear. I mean, not really. I always felt as though--you were so much more into literature than I was, and it seemed as though...you kind of looked down on me in a way because of that. That you thought I wasn’t as smart as you, that I couldn’t ever be as good at analyzing or--or quoting, or writing essays. And so even when I started to have these... _ feelings  _ for you, I hated them because I thought, no  _ way  _ she’s going to like me back. And I got so angry and sad because I  _ still _ couldn’t get over you, even then. And I--I took it out on you. And I’m sorry for that.”

_ “I’m  _ sorry,” Joana says, reaching out to wrap her arm around Cris’s shoulders and pulling her close. “ I think--I think there were times when I was trying to show off for you in a way, when we were in class, like show you that I was just as good as any of those obnoxious guys who always talk over everyone else. I  _ never _ meant to make you feel that way, and I’m so sorry I did. You are so smart, and you  _ are  _ fucking good at literature. Today definitely proves that.”

“Oh,” Cris laughs, wiggling her eyebrows,  _ “that  _ was what today proved I was good at?”

“Well, among other things.” Joana winks back at her.

They sit in silence for a moment. Cris rests her head on Joana’s shoulder.

“So...what do we do now?” Joana asks, finally.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Joana shifts awkwardly. “Like, are we gonna see each other again? Or--was this a one-time thing?”

“Well,” Cris says thoughtfully, “I’d certainly like to see you again, if that’s okay?”

Joana grins. “Definitely.” She reaches out to nudge Cris’s shoulder playfully. “After all, I have to return the favor sometime, don’t I?”

Cris smirks. “You don’t have to ask  _ me _ twice.”

She leans over and kisses Joana again, this time more gently and softly than Joana’s ever been kissed before.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr @bijoanabianchi!!!!


End file.
